


Warm With You

by ClinicalChaos



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fluffy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5612227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClinicalChaos/pseuds/ClinicalChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vash could never rationalize how she'd come to love him. Francois was bright, elegant, and adored. She sparkled when she walked, like a sunbeam off of diamonds. Vash had only ever been tolerated by all but his sister. In a little cabin in the snow, warm in a fire's light, maybe he will come to realize how much he means to the woman he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm With You

**Author's Note:**

> Fluffy, happy shmoop of the highest concentration. Enjoy and comment!

“Oh, mon cher, you spoil me,” Francois murmured. Her expression was soft, her fingers laced delicately with Vash’s. There was no showmanship, just happiness turning up the corners of her mouth. Vash pressed a kiss to her cheek as warmth flooded his chest.

“Never more than you deserve,” Vash promised. Life had not been kind to Francois Bonnefoy - since they’d started dating, Vash had endeavored to make up for that. His most recent stride involved stealing her away from the bustling politics of the city to the French Alps, where’d he’d rented a cabin for the holidays. Watching as the tension seeped from Francois’ shoulders, Vash knew he’d made the right decision.

Common knowledge was that Francois Bonnefoy was a patron of the cities. She adored burbling streets, high-end shopping, luxury, architecture, and art. Her nails were lacquered, her suits tailored, and dabs of Chanel laced each wrist. She wore her hair up, speckled with diamonds pins, and her lipstick in shades of red. However, that was just one side of her. The public side. No less real, no less Francois, but not all that she was, either. Many people often made that mistake. For a long time, Vash had been one of them. He had only seen the enviable French Empire, as resplendent in courtly gowns as she was clad as a man, splattered in battlefield mud. Nations like Spain waxed poetic about her, and even her enemies grudgingly admitted to her beauty. Vash had always done his best to be civil with her and no more. He’d heard tales of the nations who were caught up in Francois’ glow.

There had been no glow that day in Geneva, in 1920. Vash had been doing his rounds after a meeting, making sure no idiots were screwing in a closest when they should be getting out of his country. Instead, he’d found Francois: exhausted, frustrated, and obviously holding back tears.

Contrary to popular belief, Vash was not a bastard. He’d didn’t like seeing people, any people, upset. He just didn’t like to be hurt himself. Hence, he tried to stay away from people. However, Vash wasn’t about to leave someone in distress, either. So, falling back on the social skills Lilli struggled daily to instill, he’d asked if Francois would like to get a drink with him. Vash was sure she would refuse him. After all, he’d barely known her outside of politics, and frankly, even after a world war Francois still had the pick of the lot. Why would she want to spend time with him? Vash was just the tiny, cranky nation no one really liked. Lilli was the only one who could even tolerate him.

Apparently, Vash was also shit at making assumptions.

A gentle brush of lips against his own drew Vash from his memories. Arms laden with bags and skis, Francois grinned at him. “If you don’t get the door, cher, I’ll be forced to leave your present in the snow.”

Vash hummed, nimbly gathered the skis from her while fumbling with the cabin’s keys. “I thought we were saving presents for the holiday party?” Every year, the nations assembled somewhere to host a huge international ball. Most people held off on presents until then, when everyone was all together. Vash had scheduled them to fly in a week from now, giving he and Francois plenty of time to relax.

Among other things.

Vash dearly hoped Francois was referring to an _other thing_  when she mentioned his present.

Apparently a mind-reader, Francois winked. “I do not think this would be something you would like to receive in public,” she threw teasingly over her shoulder. The unrepentant little minx then flounced into the cabin, disappearing behind the master bedroom’s door. The only bag she didn’t leave in a heap on the floor was slim, shiny, and tied with a red bow.

Frankly, Vash thought, he would have had life no other way.

* * *

Hours later, Vash was sprawled across the living room floor. The day was dark, now, and the raging fireplace provided all the light to see by. Outside, snow blew down like a punishment from God, but the blizzard went unnoticed. Francois gleamed golden in the low light, her body molten against Vash’s. Vash couldn’t focus on anything but her. Fingers tangled in her gilded main, Vash pulled her into a desperate kiss. Already, her lips were wet and bitten, but she matched him nip for suck. Vash’s present, a silken red negligee that _displayed_ Francois rather than cover her, lay halfway across the room where he’d stripped her of it. 

“Alors bon, mon amour, s'il vous plaît,” Francois moaned in his ear. Her chest heaved, beautiful eyes blown wide. The thick, black bear skin rug shone a vibrant contrast against her radiant skin and hair. “Need more, please, s'il vous plaît, _please_.”

“Of course, mon coeur,” Vash breathed. He flew butterfly kisses along her throat and jaw, timing the roll of his hips with each landing. Francois trembled beneath him. Her breath came in little gasps, all of her flirty, teasing words used up. That was fine - more than fine, really. There was no need for words. Vash would have hung another moon for her without even being asked.

As they tumbled into release, Vash cradled Francois against his chest, turning them so that her head could lie over his heart. She fit there like a puzzle piece, her exhales against his skin heating his whole body. Reverently, he ran his hand along her spine, stopping to message the nape of her neck. She went boneless with a happy little sigh.

“You know, I never wanted to cuddle before I met you,” Francois murmured. Vash didn’t pause in his ministrations, just dropped a kiss onto her forehead. Francois rarely spoke about herself. When she did, Vash was always careful to listen.

Idly, Francois ran her fingers over his chest. She was drawing little hearts, Vash realized. “I don’t think any of my other paramours ever wanted that. Maybe I just wasn’t very blunt about it.”

Vash withheld a snort. Francois was the most romantic nation in the world. Why should she _need_ to be blunter than that? “Obviously, they were all idiots,” he said factually. Francois laughed, a bright, wild thing that held no hint of courtly discretion. Vash relished in having coaxed it out of her.

“Oui, oui, yes,” Francois said at last, “They most certainly were. But also, ah,” she carried on, sounding uncertain, “Perhaps it is that you are the best thing to happen to me, too, yes?” She reached up, her slim fingers coming to a rest against Vash’s cheek. They locked eyes. “You do know I love you, yes? More than anyone else, I love you.“

Slowly, as though he might spook her, Vash draped his hand over hers. "Mon coeur, I’ve known you loved me since the day you guided my drunk ass around my own damn city because I kept stumbling over the border.”

Francois laughed again, swatting Vash lightly. “I completely forgot about that! I couldn’t believe you held your alcohol so poorly.”

Vash nodded, grinning,“And everyday you’ve kept that a secret, I’ve only loved you more.” He kissed her again, slowly, to prove his appreciation. “My hero in shining armour,” he whispered against her mouth.

As they drew apart, Francois blinked. “Loved me more?” She asked, molding herself once more against his chest.

Vash stilled. A serious expression settled on his face. “Francois, I’ve loved you ever since I returned your jacket. I couldn’t stop thinking about your eyes the entire day.” She’d left it at his house, that night in Geneva. Instead of just mailing it to her Paris apartment like a normal person, Vash had used returning it as an excuse to see her. Somehow, she must have found him charming. They’d been dating ever since.

A dusky blush rose on Francois’ cheeks. She’d taken off most of her makeup for the night, applying just a little sparkly lip gloss. As such, he could see clearly how the colour dusted across her neck. He pressed a kiss to her throat, loving the little whine she made. She was so lovely, so amazing. From the little scar on her cheek from a clever swordsman to the way she talked circles around anyone who debated with her.

“I’m so lucky you’re mine,” Vash whispered. “So lucky you ever let me anywhere near you.”

Francois rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbow so she could run her fingers through Vash’s hair. “Non,” she replied, kissing Vash slowly. “I’m so lucky you ever stopped to say hello.”

Smirking, Vash turned them over, caging Francois’ body underneath his. She giggled freely, snuggling back into the soft fur. He nipped the edge of her teasing grin. “I guess we’ll just have to be lucky together, oui, mon coeur?”

“Exactly, mon amour.” With that, Francois arched up to do something particularly amazing with her mouth.

Outside, the blizzard raged on. Politics pattered along, and life was complicated. Yet, in the light of the roaring fire and tangled in each other, no cold was ever felt.

Sometimes, there is a happy ending, after all.


End file.
